


new strange

by watergator



Series: found family [1]
Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-03
Updated: 2019-07-03
Packaged: 2020-06-03 13:18:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19464814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/watergator/pseuds/watergator
Summary: dan and phil foster a child





	new strange

He arrives with his belongings in a bin bag. A black sack slung sadly over his shoulder as he passes through the threshold of their home, eyes trained towards the floor as he follows the social worker through the hallway where he looks up and sees them standing there.   
  
His eyes flicker between them, grinning faces with soft, welcoming eyes, he clutches tight to his little sack of things. It’s no means heavy, but Phil takes a careful step forward and reaches forward to take it.   
  
“Here,” he speaks, voice just as weirdly northern as he remembers. “Let’s take that and go sit down, hm?”   
  
Their home is nice. Probably the nicest he’s ever been in. The walls are curved and they have tall exotic plants dotted around in certain areas. It smells like vanilla and every now and then he’ll catch his eye on something small placed on a shelf or end table that seems weird and strange.   
  
The sofas they’re all sat on are plush and comfortable, and he runs his hand over the fabric by his leg to feel the softness. It feels like maybe they keep these sofas clean, probably give them a vacuum once and a while.    
  
Kim, his social worker is sat beside him, and although she’s talking, he’s not really listening. He doesn’t have to; it’s the same rehashed speech he’s heard before. The same thing over and over again as he ducks his head down and stares at the scuffed trainers on his feet. He wiggles his toes and watches the flap on his shoe almost come apart. He’s fixated on it, before he hears that voice, not the northern one, and he looks up to see a pair of soft brown eyes looking at him.   
  
“Would you like to see your room then?” he asks.    
  
He nods.   
  
*   
  
They show him his room, and he agrees that it’s way too nice. The bed is big and there’s a tv on the wall and there’s a few framed posters on the walls.   
  
“We didn’t know what you liked, so we got some generic posters,” Dan tells him as he stands behind him. “You can take them down if you want. We can get you something else if you that’s what you like,” he adds.   
  
He turns to look at them, both looking at him with such expectancy. He almost stands at eye level with the pair of them.   
  
He shakes his head, and offers them a small smile that seems to melt their worries away.   
  
“It’s good,” he tells them.   
  
*   
  
It’s scary when Kim leaves. He knows Kim; he doesn’t particularly like her a lot, despite her best tried efforts, but Kim is a sense of familiarity, and no matter how many times he’s done this, a new house is a new kind of scary.   
  
Phil helps empty his bin bag onto his bed where he sorts through his clothes into the drawers whilst he sits awkwardly on the end and watches him clumsily fold them to be put away.   
  
“I think Dan was thinking of a takeaway tonight,” Phil tells him, head buried into the drawer. He stands to face him with a soft smile.   
  
“Anything you fancy?”   
  
He blinks at Phil, and then gives a half hearted shrug.    
  
Phil chews on his lip, smile yet to falter. “Pizza?”   
  
He thinks for a second, tries to remember a time he last had a good pizza.   
  
“You like Dominos?” Phil asks.   
  
He looks at him, his socks in his hand, and nods.    
  
“Yeah,” he whispers. “Dominos is good.”   
  
*   
  
Dan orders the pizza on the laptop and he simply sits on the other sofa and watches them discuss if they’re gonna get chicken strips or garlic bread, before Phil reminds him with a whisper that they could probably get extra tonight.   
  
He hates that; he doesn’t like it when people assume he’s some malnourished starving child simply because he’s a kid in the care system. His last home fed him, and the one before that. He knows what dough balls are, he isn’t stupid.   
  
He focuses himself on the white glow of the apple logo on the back of the laptop as Dan submits the order with a happy smile.   
  
“Do you want a drink?” Phil asks as he pulls himself up off the sofa, patting Dan’s leg as he does.    
  
Phil does that a lot: the constant hovering as well as giving Dan little touches. He keeps bothering him, asking him if he needs a reminder of where things are, telling him to make himself at home, when Dan will talk to him in quiet voices and they’ll do something as small as brush pinkies.   
  
But he notices, even if they’re trying to be not so suspicious. He knows they mean well; they have to be if they’d signed up for a fostering agency and agreed to take him in. They’re probably not terrible people. Probably decent. But he doesn’t know that. He can’t be sure, not yet at least.   
  
They live here, this is their home and their place of comfort and familiarity and understanding. But this isn’t his, and he can’t be expected to just slot right in right away and breathe like it’s the same air he’s been breathing in for his entire life.   
  
He realises that Phil’s still looking at him with a chewed lip. Anxious, even.   
  
“Yeah,” he croaks. He feels his throat go dry. “Please.”   
  
Phil heads to the kitchen and it leaves just him and Dan. He looks at him, stretched out, comfortably. This is his home. He seems alright here.   
  
“You want to watch tv?” Dan asks, shoving the laptop off his legs and reaches for the remote discarded on the little glass coffee table. It’s spotless and almost see through, and he can only imagine it looks like this today with the visit of the social worker.   
  
“Uh, sure,” he says, unbothered. Dan nods and with a click of a button the tv comes to life.   
  
“Do you have a favourite show?” Dan asks.   
  
He does, but he’d rather not ask. “Nope,” he replies simply. It’s easier for Dan to just pick something so he can pretend to care about the flickering images on the tv rather than getting into pointless conversation.

He sees in the corner of his eye the way Dan looks at him, like he’s maybe sussing him out. He doesn’t like that his every action or word that comes from his mouth is constantly being assessed. Like he can’t just be unbothered by something as menial as something to watch on tv without them looking at him like they’re trying to figure out his motives, when in reality, there are none.  


Dan eventually lands on a baking show he’s seen before. It’s old but not something he remembers clearly. It must be halfway done because after a few minutes, it already cuts to the adverts.   
  
Phil returns with a tall glass of cola with glass. “Do you want a straw or something?” he asks, handing him the clinking glass.   
  
He shakes his head, and takes a quick sip. They’re acting like he’s their hotel guest. His insides squirm as he realises them both watching him take long gulps.   
  
He’s already finished his glass when Phil is taking it from him. “Do you want another? Are you thirsty?”   
  
He could sigh if he were more confident. Instead he stretches a smile across his face. “No thank you,” he says politely.    
  
Phil nods, and sets his empty glass on the coffee table instead of just making the few steps towards the kitchen. He looks at the glass and smiles. That feels more relaxed.   
  
They watch the rest of bake-off, but Dan talks through the whole thing. He keeps trying to remind Phil of the episode, who swears they haven’t seen this one, but Dan is close to arguing with him that yes, they have.   
  
He watches them carefully, returning his gaze back to the screen when he fears it’ll be too suspicious.   
  
Maybe he’s the one sussing them out now.   
  
*   
  
The doorbell is weird and loud and makes him jump when it rings. Dan gets up to answer it and Phil laughs breathily.

“Don’t worry,” as assures him, “it always makes me jump too.”   
  
He feels his face heat up slightly, but soon enough Dan returns with stacks of cardboard boxes that emit little wisps of steam.   
  
Dan sets them on the table, finally removing the empty glass.   
  
He peels one box open and a hot, cheese pizza is presented to him.   
  
The other two are peppered in weird toppings and smells.   
  
“Help yourself,” Dan tells him, nodding to the fresh pizzas, untouched until Dan grabs one and rips it away with a string of cheese trailing away.   
  
He nods, and does the same. He holds it, until he realises he has no plate. He looks around awkwardly until he realises Dan and Phil do the same, and instead, stuff their dinner into their mouths.   
  
Phil catches his eye. “Oh. You can just eat it like that,” Phil says once he swallows down his mouthful.    
  
“Unless you want a plate!” he adds on quickly, looking like he might stand back up.   
  
But he shakes his head, and Phil stays seated.   
  
“It’s fine,” he tells him, taking a bite that burns the roof of his mouth.   
  
The three of them carry on stuffing their faces with pizza, when he realises that they’re maybe a slice or two ahead of him, and with pure wired in instincts, he grabs another large slice and stuffs half of it in his face, chewing quickly to swallow it down.   
  
Dan is watching him now, and once the crust is popped between his lips, he grabs another.   
  
Dan chuckles, “Enjoying that?”   
  
Phil bumps his ankle with his.    
  
He nods. “Yeah,” he speaks, cheese and grease dribbles from his lips to his chin, and he wipes at it with the back of his hand where it smears messily.   
  
Phil hops up, telling him he’ll grab the napkins for the small mess he’s made. Nobody scolds him or tells him he’s eating too fast or too much, and Dan doesn’t even say anything when he runs his greasy slicked fingers on the sofa. He looks like he may say something, but holds back when Phil hands him a napkin with a wide smile.   
  
*   
  
They finish their dinner and Dan throws the rest of the leftovers into one box that sits in the oven, promised that he can help himself to more tomorrow.   
  
It grows late and the three of them sit and watch mindless telly until Phil lets out a yawn and Dan prompts them that maybe it’s late and it’s been a long day and he gets the hint when he stands and tells them he’s off to bed.

He’s far too old for kisses goodnight, or getting tucked in, so they wish him a goodnight, remind him a third time where the bathroom is, ask if he wants a water, and finally he’s in his room with the door shut.  


In here, it’s quiet and he doesn’t feel surrounded.   
  
The walls are unfamiliar and the wooden floor feels hard underneath his trainers, so he slips them off so he’s in his socks. He realises that Dan and Phil had been in their socks all day, and wonders if maybe they have a no shoes indoors policy that they’re unsure of how to inforce at the moment.   
  
He sighs and goes to his bed. Phil had left his pjs on his pillow for him, folded rather terribly.   
  
He’s quick to get undressed and dressed again. He stands in the middle of the room, staring at the door. He’s unsure, really.   
  
He goes to it and strains his ear to listen, and when he’s calmed his heavy breathing, he can just about hear the sounds of walking around. He hears the creak of a nearby door, then, the flick of a light switch and dulled talking.   
  
Twisting the handle slowly, he pulls the door open and stands in the doorway, where the apartment is now dark. He can make out the sliver of light coming from the other room where Dan and Phil must sleep.

He can hear their hushed voices, and curiosity bubbles in his chest, and doing what he’s done so many times, he tiptoes out of his room and sticks close to the walls, each step the voices grow a little clearer, until he’s close enough to their door to stay hidden, yet close enough to hear them now.   
  
“Do you think we’re being overbearing?” Phil’s voice speaks out, sounding as anxious as he’d seemed all day.   
  
There’s a ruffle of what sounds like bedsheets and the wet smack of lips against skin. “Hey, I’m sure we did okay,” Dan whispers.   
  
He sucks in a quiet breath of air through his nose, listening out to what they say next.   
  
“I mean, it’s hard enough dealing with a sixteen year old, let alone a fifteen year old that probably doesn’t want to be here,” Dan adds on, his voice catching onto a small laugh at the end.   
  
Phil hums, and he can only imagine the creases in his forehead as he does so.   
  
“You think he hates it here already?” Phil whispers in a voice unsure, but Dan scoffs.   
  
“Probably. But could you blame him? Do you remember being sixteen, how painfully awkward you probably were?”   
  
He can’t imagine these two adults being his age. He kind of forgets that all adults were once his age, growing and learning like he is.   
  
There’s a beat of silence until there’s another ruffling sound and this time Phil’s voice is more muffled; more quieter.   
  
“I suppose,” he says. “I just want him to feel comfortable.”   
  
More silence.   
  
“Time will tell,” Dan replies.   
  
He hears them say their goodnights to each other, and he leaves, heading back to his room.   
  
He silently switches the light off, and before he can slip into bed he holds the door handle and stares down at it unsure.   
  
Many houses he’d slept in, he’d spent time pondering whether he’d be sleeping with the door closed or open.   
  
More times than none he’d close it shut and leave it like that.    
  
But even in this strange new house, and these strange new people, he decidedly let do of the handle and let it rest half open, before getting into bed.   
  
The sheets were weird on his skin and the mattress strange under his back. The ceiling he stared up at was new and scary and the silence of the house gave him space to think.

Dan and Phil probably weren’t the worst foster carer’s he’d have. Probably far from it. They were a little overbearing and annoying but it was only day one out of an uncertain amount.   
  
He was unsure of how long he’d be here; unsure of how many more nights he’d spend in this new bed. But he guessed Dan was right.

Time would tell. Maybe he’d grow to endure this new home for a little while. Maybe he wouldn’t and that was alright. He was used to that now.   
  
But as he lay in this new bed and listened to the calm stillness of this new house - new home, he realised that maybe he’d just have to wait. That maybe this chapter wouldn’t end in the same bin bagged clothes and car trips with Kim to the next house.   
  
He still had time to settle and learn and grow here. He didn’t know Dan and Phil like maybe other people did - not just yet. But he could try.   
  
He could try because he could tell they wanted to try too. They didn’t do a perfect job, but it was all a learning curve.   
  
They just had to learn together.   
  
And for once, he closed his eyes, and managed to sleep. Managed to sleep in a strange bed, in a strange room in a strange house full of strange new people.   
  
Because for now, he wasn’t worrying about where his next bed would be, or when his next meal would be. He wasn’t worried for now, and he knew with ease that for once his clothes were folded into a dresser he could call his, and not stuffed into a black bin bag like there usually were.   
  
It was just one step at a time. One, strange new step at a time.   


**Author's Note:**

> come say hi on tumblr !! @watergator


End file.
